The Fire We Made

I almost detected sincerity in his tearful display 

As he attempted to describe his life without me. 

His once intrinsic ardor, now neatly put away 

Made an effort to tiptoe around my doubting. 

Unbeknownst to him, my heart had known him all too well 

To assume that there was candor in his pleading. 

His former river of love was now anhydrous with his hurt 

And his endeavors to convince me were but fleeting. 

The vestiges that remained; scattered fragments of the past 

Were all that persevered through years of trial; 

Of a love once so profound; now hidden and obscured 

Beneath our dank and woolen blanket of denial. 

With each passing day we’d tried, 

To bring back the love that died, 

We’d been digging in the dirt to make its grave; 

Our endeavors to recapture what was scorched to ashen dust 

Had burned slowly in the fire we once made. 

Nevertheless, we gather coals 

And place them neatly at our feet 

Despite the winds that rush against the flame; 

We’ll try again to light the match 

To reignite the love we had 

Aware that things will never be the same.